Loving You
by hedgehoginajumper
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was never one for feelings, or love, as ordinary people called it. But when he meets John Watson, everything changes. He knows the boy will never love him back, but he will always care about John more than anyone. Johnlock, AU, Teen!lock, mentions or suicide and self harm
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes was never one for feelings, or love, as his mother had called it. He never had any friends though, so this didn't change much in his life. Sherlock was what ordinary people called a "freak", but he used the title "High Functioning Sociopath". Always, since the day he opened his eyes, the boy was able to notice things that most people couldn't, he could tell someone's life story just by the look on their face, or the scratch marks on their phone. It always freaked his parent's friends out when he revealed their secrets in front of everyone, and it always made Sherlock confused. Why didn't anyone like his deductions?

Mycroft, his older brother, told him repeatedly that people didn't like their secrets being revealed to the public, but that didn't stop him from what he did. He didn't care what people thought of him- he didn't need friends.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own, Mycroft," Sherlock muttered while sulking on his couch. "Ordinary people are... boring."

"Sherlock, honestly you are quite ridiculous sometimes," the irritated man replied. "Don't you think you should give someone a chance?"

Sherlock shook his head and turned to glare at his brother. "No, Mycroft," he growled through gritted teeth. "Never will I trust anyone." Weeks and months passed, and these were the only words 14 year old Sherlock shared with anyone. After stealing a corpse from St. Bart's morgue, his father was furious and sent the young man away to a boarding school in Baskerville.

Despite his unhappy complaints, he got on the train for school on a bright morning and sat down in his seat near the back. He looked to the side and saw a middle aged woman with blue-gray eyes and short dirty blond hair. He looked over her shoulder to see a short, fat man and two twin girls who were giggling about something. Then he turned to his left and saw a single boy, he guessed about 16. The boy had short, sandy hair and deep blue eyes that shone like a puppy begging for table scraps. For half a second, Sherlock was lost in his gaze, but he quickly looked away and looked down at his hands.

"Boring!" He muttered to himself, catching the boy's eye and earning a chuckle.

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**... ALRIGHTY, THAT'S IT FOR TODAY, REMEMBER THIS IS JUST A SAMPLE. I WON'T BE UPDATING UNTIL I AT LEAST HAVE ONE REVIEW, THAT WAY I KNOW IF PEOPLE ARE ENJOYING IT. ^^**


	2. New Roommate

Sherlock sighed in relief as the train pulled to a stop and the doors opened. As fast as he could, the boy stood up and raced out before it could get too crowded. When he stepped out, Sherlock snorted at the sight of the school, which was gray and brown with tall, barbed wire fences. He knew from that very moment that he would hate this school, and hate the people even more.

Still, he trudged towards the entrance and pushed the gate open. He stepped inside the school, which was cold and dimly lit. The ceilings were high up and the walls just slightly slanted, the polished wooden floors blanketed with a layer of dust. He started walking down the hall, when suddenly he felt a hand on his back and whipped around defensively.

"Oh, sorry to frighten, dear," said the woman who had grabbed him. Sherlock let himself relax as she explained. "I just need to register you. Now, what's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he replied impatiently.

"Sherlock Holmes? Oh, well then," she murmured with concern, her smile fading. "Alright, your room is 21 in ward 1B. Here's your key."

Sherlock grabbed the key and spun around. "Thanks," he muttered bitterly, walking towards his room. The woman glared in his direction for a moment, then turned just as she heard another student open the doors.

"John Watson," he said with a half smile.

"Ah yes, right this way John," she replied sweetly, showing him the hallway where his room was. "21, ward 1B- _oh."_

John looked confused. "What?" He asked, concerned. "Something wrong?"

The woman nodded, then turned and rushed off without another word. John shrugged and padded over to his door, rapping his knuckles against the polished wood surface. "Hello?" He called, running his other hand through his hair.

Suddenly the door flew open, and a tall, slender teenager with dark, curly hair stood there in the entrance. John immediately remembered the boy from the train ride, the one who had looked at his jam sandwiches like they were guns aiming at him. He smiled and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Er, hi?" John said. "Can I come in? I- er- I'm your roommate."

Sherlock nodded and moved out of the way so that the other boy could come in. He showed no signs of interest in John or his presence, and threw himself onto the bed with a sigh. "John Watson, I assume?"

John gulped and nodded. "Er, yes. You?"

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, I've heard of you from my sister Harriet," John chuckled, thinking of the times when Harry would come home during holliday muttering about how "some ignorant bloke" had revealed her secret of being lesbian to one of the teachers. He knew she had been talking about Sherlock, of course, because she described him as a dark, curly haired boy with a very slender body. This was definitely him.

"Yeah, yeah, she's your sister, the one who kept egging the gym," Sherlock muttered, turning on his side to face John. "I need to think, I would appreciate it if you would be quiet and stop staring at my butt for a bit. Thank you very much."

John blushed, realising he _had_ been staring at Sherlock's lower half, and turned away. "Well, I-I guess I'm going to, er, go down to the canteen," he stuttered, flustered. "See ya."

Sherlock waited until the door had shut, then jumped out of bed and raced over to his desk. He pulled out a dead mouse from one drawer and set it on the floor with a Swiss blade and a pair of tweezers. "Ah, okay," he sighed, getting comfortable on his jacket. "Now, what am I doing again?"

He spat in annoyance and put his shaky hands over the top of his head. Once again, he had managed to let John Watson take over his mind, letting him forget about what was important. Sherlock had never felt this way in his whole life, so... dazed. He couldn't think straight, and he lost it every time John looked into his eyes. It was actually scary, (which was another thing he was not used to) these feelings inside.

"Ohh, John Watson you have ruined me," he muttered, leaning against the wall. "But how? I don't like him... I don't like anyone. So why do I feel like this- jealousy? Nervousness?" He huffed in anger and closed his eyes, trying to delete these thoughts from his system. He couldn't be Sherlock Holmes if these thoughts were clouding his mind.


End file.
